17 Places to Sit

A new postcard find that I find myself staring at far too much. Eye, if you will, the Murrieta Hot Springs Hotel, circa...1970?



I went searching for the Murrieta, to see if it still exists. No luck so far, but I've got to know three things:

1) Does it still have two couches and four squishy chairs, making for a total of ten seats, angled around a small table? A very impressive conversation nook. Nearby are seven more seats huddled together. Everyone share. NOW! It's the '70s.
2) The Victorian globe lamps. Again, like the chairs and couch, there are... a lot. Maybe over 30 in this one snapshot.
3) Dried flowers, branches, buds, everywhere. A tiny Toltec idol on an end table. A rock wall. Red carpet. Red wallpaper. Red ceiling. White drapes.

1970s hotel style, you had it GOING ON.

Orange

I'm forever on the lookout for the truly unusual hotel room. I like the standard-issue chain room -- there's something about expectations being met -- but if I can sleep inside a giant light bulb, well, I'm charmed.

My friend's family will be staying at the Propeller Island City Lodge in Germany soon. Of note: the all-orange room:



Is it like napping inside a huge piece of citrus? Or the center of the sun, perhaps? Must find out.

The Highway Hotel Sign

Saluting the tall -- talllll -- hotel sign, constructed with one purpose in mind: find customers as they fly by on the freeway.

Here's hoping that these signs last. Travelers now frequently find lodging online, no sign or cement or marquee required.





Flickr image by puroticorico

Citrus, Dust, England?

I like dictomy. An icy center in a hot bon-bon. A sweet person at the heart of a grouch. Don't we all?

To continue the thought: I like stepping off a chug-chug, windows-down historic train, on a dusty summer afternoon, into the dim lobby of a Tudor building that is -- surprise surprise -- not far from a bevy of Southern California citrus groves.

The Cotswolds served with an orange twist.

I like Glen Tavern Inn in Santa Paula. And don't even START me on the lobby bathroom. Swank. The paper towels. I'd take the train back just to lather up again.

Mauve-olous

An excess of mauve. Carpets, drapery, furniture. Says, to me, that the hotel was refurbished -- or possibly furbished -- circa 1983.

I'm not talking hints of mauve. I'm talking mauve coming out of the airducts. Mauve-osity. Mauve everywhere.

What is the dominating hotel hue now? We're guessing in the silvers/earth tones. Maybe light grey?

Light and Shadow

One mid-century hanging lamp, doing a lot of work, at the Pearl Hotel in San Diego

Fin-Tastic!

Neato Coolville posted this flipper-rific postcard of vacationers frolicking with a plastic dolphin. It's at the Frontier Hotel. It's the 1970s. As if we had to explain any of that.

Oh, and that gor-ge-ous clam-shell booth. Waiter, more carb-filled rolls and real butter please! With a side of unfiltereds and a double Gibson, extra onions.

The Strater Sensation

You enter a hotel lobby, bedraggled, huffing with luggage, and land in front of a front desk bloated with energy-depleting road snacks. Cranky? In a snit? That's not the half of it. But there it is, in front of you: the friendly hotel newsletter, complete with weather, local events, and dining suggestions.

The Strater Hotel in Durango boasts The Strater Sensation, and seeing it, after our loooong drive from Salt Lake City one night last summer, cheered me.



By the way, I believe science is only days away from a very important discovery: the Strater is, in fact, one of the most beautiful hotels on the planet.




Second image: The Strater Hotel

A Reader Writes In: Luggage and Bellmen

Father comments on wheeled luggage...

The end of a golden era for the bellman came with the arrival of the wheeled luggage bag. Most old-school hotel bellman are in the retirement home for hospitality people, where they are still trying to help new arrivals with their luggage.

Hospitality never goes away.

As a former bellman it makes me sick to be in any airport and watch 200-pound grown men pulling roller bags smaller than a kid's lunchbox. This is why the distaff side owns the world; their roller bags are the size of a steamer trunk. YEA!!!

Monopoly Hotel Cufflinks

Darling. I think I will pass "go" and go directly to these.

From Etsy:

Paint Your Way to a Free Stay

Super news for artists, struggling and otherwise, from the la-la-la, always colorful Living with Legends blog. The Chelsea Hotel is trading rooms for paintings. Rock 'n roll is not dead.

My dashing husband Mr. Motel Me More grew up on the barter system. His mom would give away her rooms to the meat guy in exchange for steaks. And frozen, mass-produced Chicken Cordon Bleu, of course.

Now if only we could combine the two: a painting of a Chicken Cordon Blue cutlet. Perfection in art?





Image from instructibles.com

"Somewhere in Time" Thong

"Somewhere in Time"? Swoon. Christopher Reeve, hello. Jane Seymour in a Gibson Girl updo, hello. Christopher Plummer practically twirling his non-existent mustache in full-on, "keep-those-lovers apart" villainy? Mad about.



My brother and I still quote our favorite line -- "Riiiiichard!" -- often. If you know the movie you know this is when Christopher Reeve -- "Richard" -- finds the modern-day penny in his pocket and zaps forward in time. Shudder.

And the fourth star of the film, the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, bewitches. I dream, sometimes hourly, of devouring divinity on that porch.

But while I take time for "Time," I also must take time to mention the movie's devoted fan base. I adore "Somewhere in Time" fans, those people who continue to pen fan fiction, attend the conventions, buy items like "Somewhere in Time" thongs. Yes, thongs.

Does this delight you? It delights me. To the core.




Order your "Somewhere in Time" thong at Cafe Press.

Excitement! Danger! Comfortable Beds!

I like the man kicking -- something? -- on the upper right. Or more accurately, he's doing a big "high ya" move. Question: How often does one find herself kicking at a top-notch hotel?

Bigger question: How could you not haved rushed immediately out to the theater for this 1967 adrenaline-raiser of an action movie? Fine dinners, fine rooms, a courteous staff, and kicking!



Image: Warner Bros.

Waldorf Astoria Cocktail Pick Necklace

I'm crazy for cocktail picks, and I'm batty about the Waldorf Astoria. Although, full disclosure, I once was not permitted to eat breakfast at the famed Park Avenue palace, as I was clad in "dungarees" -- the maitre d's word -- a determination I completely agreed with. Thrilled, I was, to get politely tossed from the W-A. My parents still talk about it, with much mirth.

Designer Erica Weiner of New York has transformed a Waldorf cocktail pick into a gor-ge-ous (three syllables, yes) necklace. You'd just have to slowly sip a tart gimlet while twirling this baby and staring at something -- someone? -- across a long room.







Images: Erica Weiner Jewelry

Pillow Fright

The decorative, foo-foo pillows on a hotel bed charm. And befuddle. Where to put them once it is time for sleep?

We usually aim for a couch or coffee table. The floor is the very last resort. But we're guessing -- strike that -- we're *knowing* they've met the floor once or twice before.



Flickr image by flygraphix

Audrey Horne

Like me, Audrey Horne of the TV series "Twin Peaks" was a young lady who grew up in a hotel managed by her father. Unlike me, Audrey Horne attempted to date an FBI agent, went undercover at a brothel, smoked at school, wore saddle shoes, and danced in diners by herself.

Was I missing something? Probably. Lesson from Audrey: be bolder, and boss more. Also, work that beauty mark, and the plaid skirts.



And, just because I love it so much, here's the Black Lodge from the series. At the end of my life, when they examine my heart, they'll find memories of all those I love, and this image:

Stay and Be a Child Again

The Arte Luise Kunsthotel in Germany is famous for its work-of-art rooms. I especially like Mammel's Dream, where the adult guest is rendered a child again by the mere size of the furniture:





Image: Arte Luise Kunsthotel